Veil
by on hiatus sorry
Summary: Kira searches for something, anything to show that Hisagi's still there. Rated T for language. One shot. First fic!


The ninth division's hallways were emptied, dark with shadows. Only a lone sentry - but he did his best to pay the visitor no heed - giving only an anxious glance before hurrying down the corridor. That's how everyone was, once they realized he was breaking under the continuous tide of pity, drowning him. It didn't matter. Their stares and pitied murmurings followed him wherever he fled, be it to the training grounds or even here. Like an unwelcome ghost, he glided through Seireitei, pale, alone.

He knew this division well. Carefully, he stole into the last room of the hallway. The door creaked, and he slammed it back, shutting his eyes. Breath accelerating, he leaned on the oak slab, his left hand nervously tracing the cool doorknob.

All it would take was one turn. It wasn't like he would see _him_ there, wouldn't relive _that. _An unoccupied office couldn't do that to him, right? His futile attempts at self-reassurance faded quickly, though apprehension of pain surged through him. A part of his mind craved a taste of what was already gone, to touch that desk, to smell the spare, ripped hakama _he_ left behind. The tortured bit of his soul wanted no more pain, no more of these memories.

Inhaling a rattling breath, he felt cold beads of sweat form on his forehead. His body suddenly gave way, fatigued, and he slowly slid to the floor, letting his blond bangs hang in his face. Still, his hand gripped the flattened, iron sphere with possessive force, and yet he was terribly afraid.

He so badly wanted to see _him _again, and this office - this office filled with undisturbed relics was all he would ever get. A pained gasp left him realizing his vulnerability, the pathetic state he was in, clawing at a door, searching for just something that was _his…_"Hisagi…san…" The whispered plea did not echo, just carried into the darkness and vanished.

A burst of frenzied energy overtook him, and he burst into the room. It was silent, unoccupied, still. Closing the door behind him softly, he surveyed the space. A desk sat, parallel to the door, the abandoned hakama draped over a chair. Small shelves were lined with files, papers, perhaps they were important - but no one dared to even care. It was plain, simple, a Spartan environment. No personal items, not a picture frame, not a potted plant. Nothing truly of _his_, because the ninth division's lieutenant had never bothered himself with material things.

"_And Renji wanted to throw a huge gala, but I'm fairly sure he's not….capable of planning an event of that magnitude properly. What he's suggesting doesn't sound like just an outing to a bar…" He sighed, absent-mindedly gazing through the window. _

"_Maa, Kira, it's just a party. Rukia will help him, right? She'll keep him in line." The older shinigami carelessly said, and suddenly wrapped his arms around the blond, whose eyes widened. Kira turned his head slightly to chide his lover when Hisagi planted a playful kiss on his lips. Blue eyes crinkled in forgiveness at the mischievous grays, and at that moment Kira was content._

_He twisted to face the brunet, who took the movement as permission for another kiss. Weaving his hands into the dark, spiky hair, Kira breathed in his scent and felt the warmth from his slightly tan body. He felt the slight roughness of his lover's scars brushing his face, and sighed. _

_They balanced each other, completed each other. Loathe as he was to say it, the betrayal had brought them closer, as they had found solace in each other when the loneliness of abandonment had been too much. But even as old wounds healed, their passion didn't fade. That was before the Winter War. _

_Nothing was compared to the immense relief he felt after watching in horror as the hellish beast tossed Hisagi away, and still feeling that steady heartbeat. Nothing - and yet in this victory, he watched his loved one, his _everything, _fall like a mere rag-doll at the hands of that whom they once trusted. His love, collapsing, defenseless, lifeless. How was it that life had blessed him by saving him, only to cruelly decide to steal him away? The world was on fire, and it burned and burned until there was no more fuel for its grievous flames. He thought he knew depression, after his captain left. That had been a trifle, that incident. _

_He locked himself in his office and sobbed. Like a child. The raps on the door and begs from the other side; he was immune to those. All but one. _

"_Damn it, Hinamori, I'm busting down this door if he keeps ignoring us."_

"_Abarai-!" A high-pitched squeak. _

_There was a splintering crack, and Kira looked up from his desk to see the furious redhead panting, Hinamori's liquid brown eyes shining with worry, Matsumoto gazing at him with concern. There was an icy silence as Kira blankly stared at them. The short brunette's mouth parted, but Renji began to yell before she could speak._

"_Kira, for god's sake! You need to snap out of it. Your squad needs you, and you can't sulk like this!" His friend said bluntly. Kira clenched his jaw, and put his head between his arms again, staring at a grain in the wood surface. "Are you trying to ignore me, you-" He heard Hinamori's protests as she tried to restrain the obviously enraged man. "Fuck this. I don't know what to do." His voice was suddenly exhausted, and Kira heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. A quiet apology issued from the timid girl, and another pair of light feet followed. _

_Soft breathing prodded at his thoughts, and grudgingly he gazed up at the beautiful shinigami. "Kira-kun…" He saw the look on Matsumoto's face. Impassive, with a touch of another emotion. Was it pity? Unsure of her intent, he lowered his own stare. "I know you want to give up now, seeing as this is the second time." _

_Kira flinched. The strawberry-blonde let a wry smile touch her lips, sorrowful. "I know Hisagi meant more than anything to you. Even this post as a shinigami…" He didn't try to defend himself, not even in the name of pride. He closed his eyes. She was right, seeing through him like glass. "But… As shinigami, we protect people. We protect people as much as we can so that their loved ones won't feel the pain that you're feeling now. Shuuhei would've seen it that way." And with that declaration and a searching look, she left. _

He went back to work, for his friends' sake. Matsumoto's words, he thought, were a promise that he could move on, could live in acceptance and celebrate Hisagi's life. But here he still was, addicted to the thought a sliver of his lover remained at this place he once stayed so often. Still hoping that one day, he would see that slightly wild, loving smile in the darkness. Every time, he was disappointed. He knew the ninth division respected this ritual, but rumors circulated young fuku-taichou was going insane.

Slowly, he approached the chair, running his fingertips along the article of black cloth. His hand began to tremble, thinking of the owner who would never wear this uniform again, never sit here again. As his body seized up, folds were crumpled and an agonized tear, one of unrequited longing blossomed on the fabric.

He guessed he had always seen this office, that with its existence, Hisagi was somehow there, hiding - a veil. A wall linking life to death, memories and reality. Ghosts and the living. This haze of illusion, this fruitless fantasy would be in vain, always. Kira tried not to cry out _his name again. _


End file.
